Is it?
by Copper1
Summary: Welp, this is my first fic. Its another B/V thing, but with a sort of twist. I'll just say that bothe Yamcha and Vegeta play large parts. Please be kind to a newbie writer, please R&R! =)
1. The Shampoo Disaster

Well, hopefully this is the beginning of a fun writing career. =) This fic is a B/V thing, but like I said, it has a twist, and its not quite the stereotypical fic either. There is a sort of humor here, but I'm leaning more towards... well... something. I dunno.  
  
Disclaimer: Do you think I'd be writing fanfics if I OWNED any of these characters?!  
  
*** indicates breaks in time.  
~~~ indicates a new setting.  
  
Oh yes, all flames will be used to feed the dragon that lives under my bed. Without further ado, the fic!  
  
  
  
********  
~Is it?~  
  
  
"Vegita! For goodness sake, cant you take a day off from that stupid training? Its raining so hard out I cant even see past the front yard, and you're tracking mud all through the house! And-AH! Where are you going?! Listen to me, you lunkhead! You cant just ignore me like I am some sort of insect! Get back in here!"  
  
Vegita grunted and rolled his eyes, walking in through the back door and heading to the stairs. Bulma followed him the entire way, as did her annoying nagging.  
  
"I wonder if that woman EVER shuts up.." he muttered as he headed for the bathroom. Bulma kept up a steady stream of agitated chatter behind him.  
  
"...even THINK I will cook dinner for you while you are dressed like that. I mean, there is mud all over your clothing. How did you manage that? The gravity chamber is only a few yards away from the house and you managed to get covered in filth somehow?"  
  
Once again, the saiyjin prince rolled his eyes to the ceiling as he stepped inside the bathroom and pulled off the tight fitting t-shirt he had worn for training that day. The once white color of the fabric was now a mess, mud speckling the garment. His comfortable pants were now soaked through with rainwater, and his shoes left muddy imprints on the newly cleaned carpeting in Bulma's home.Water ran in rivulets down his muscled back, and dripped from his spiky hair onto the tiled bathroom floor.  
  
Bulma was still yammering on, but Vegita tuned her out. His muscles burned after his workoput today. He had still not attained his goal of rising to Super Saiyjin.. Even that thought made him want to lash out, burn the house down with his anger. With a growl, he threw off the rest of his clothing and turned on the water, allowing it to warm to almost scalding tempratures before jumping into the shower. The warmth relaxed his muscles and eased the aches and pains of the day. Reaching out for his customary bottle of shampoo (extra starchy : )), he began to wash the thick, gravity defying hair of his....  
  
"AAURGH! Woman, I'm gonna KILL you!"  
  
~~~Later, Bulma was visiting Chi-Chi~~~  
  
"So he was in the shower, and all of a sudden I hear him scream.. and shout that he was going to kill me! Naturally, I went up to see what was up...and he came out of the bathroom wearing nothing more than a scowl! But I didnt even notice that at first.. because his hair was falling down around his shoulders, and he smelled like lilacs! He has grabbed my Herbal Essences shampoo instead of his own. Chi-Chi, that was so funny!"  
  
Chi-Chi, meanwhile, was laughing herself blue. "V-ve-vegita, smelling like Lilacs?"  
  
Bulma chuckled. "Yeah. He wont come out of the house until his hair goes back to normal. Says that it could take up to a week!"Chi-Chi guffawed again. Still smiling, Bulma stood. "Well, I would love to stay for a while, but I have to get over to Yamcha's. He and I have plans tonight, and I made us dinner."  
  
Chi-Chi bid Bulma goodbye, and the aqua haired woman strolled down the road toward Yamcha's place to pick him up...  
  
  
***  
  
Heavy grunts were coming from the gravity training room. More sweat than usualy beaded Vegita's brow, and his rhythm was slower. His limp hair was slick with his sweat.  
  
He was throwing simple kicks and punches, nearing the end of his workout. His hair, falling all the way past his mid-back, made the work all that much more tiresome. He didnt know how the humans managed with such silky, long, and limp hair. Wasnt it as hot as hell under it all?  
  
Well.. the human females did have those ....what were they called? Scrunchies? But Vegeta would die before he lowered himself to the level of asking Bulma for one. Besides, he reasoned, his hair would go back to normal in a few days.  
  
He hoped.  
  
Glancing outside, the Saiyjin noticed that it was only 9:30 in the evening. For some reason he couldnt keep his mind on his training. Maybe it was because he hadnt eaten today...  
  
The royal stomach began to growl in earnest, reminding him of that fact. There would be enough time to return to his training after he badgered that woman into cooking again. He hated to admit it, but he couldnt even boil water without having something go wrong...  
  
Ah well. To the house!  
  
***  
  
Stepping inside, allowing the screen door to slam closed behind him, the first thing he noticed was that the house was dark. Pitch blackness. Wait... his eyes cut through the darkness, catching the slightest glimpse of a wavering light in the ajoining room. It was the dining room. Keeping light on his feet, the prince prowled across the floor and peered in through the crack in the door.  
  
It was Bulma and Yamcha. How quaint. They sat across from each other at the large oaken dining table. Bulma and Yamcha were looking a bit strained, but still held great affection for each other in their eyes. Vegeta narrowed his eyes. He almost turned and walked out the to the kitchen before he heard the quavering in Yamcha's voice as he began to speak.  
  
Perhaps dinner could wait a bit.  
  
***  
  



	2. The Conversation

Yamcha took a deep breath. It had to be tonight. He had to say it.  
  
Why did it have to hurt like this? Why did she have to look so beautiful? And why in the name of all that is good did her smile look so forced?  
  
No matter. He had to say it.  
  
"Bulma?"  
  
She turned her eyes on him. Those eyes that once made his knees turn to jelly and tied his tongue in knots. Now they held warmth, but not the intense, sensual feelings he remembered. "Yes, Yamcha?" Her voice was quiet.. almost as if she knew.  
  
Did she know?  
  
"Bulma... I.. I have to tell you something." The scarred warrior closed his eyes momentarily to regain his voice. It was trying to get away from him. "Its important. Please.. come here."  
  
To his surprise, Bulma obeyed. She walked around the darkwood table and sat in the seat beside him, turned so that she was looking at him in the eyes.  
  
Oh, those eyes. Why did this have to be so cursed hard?  
  
Yamcha took one of her hands in his, closing his larger, callused fingers over hers. She watched him, a faint sense of sadness welling up in her eyes, but also a look of resignation.  
  
By the stars above.. did she know?  
  
"Bulma... I.." He looked down at the floor, willing himself not to cry. He had to say this.. he had to get it out, but it was like he was tearing his heart out and giving it to the wolves. He was still trying to regain control when he felt her squeeze his hand. He looked at her when she began to speak.  
  
"Yamcha... I know. I understand.." Her voice wavered on the words. "I know what you're trying to say."  
  
He swallowed. She had never looked so beautiful. He had never felt so rotten. He could see the tears brimming on her eyes, but the tears never fell.  
  
"Bulma, I am so sorry. I loved you.. I still do. Its just.. it just.."  
  
"I know. Yamcha, I know. Its not the same... I dont know if it ever will be." She rested her free hand against his cheek and rubbed her thumb over the tears he did not realize he had cried. "Maybe its for the best. Maybe in time... in time... we can try again. But... until that time..."  
  
"I will always be your friend, Bulma. Always." More tears streamed down his face.  
  
"Thank you Yamcha." She threw her arms around him for one last hug, her tears finally spilling over. "Thank you," she whispered.  
  
Yamcha held her like that as the minutes past. He savored the feel of her against him, wished this moment would never pass. But pass, it did. As Bulma pulled gently away from him, she managed a shaky smile. As he stood, she dried her tears. And as she walked him to the door, Bulma's eyes were puffy and red, but no longer weeping. And as she watched him walk away, the tears fell faster and more heavily than before.  
  
Yamcha didnt look over his shoulder as he left the house, much as he desperately wanted to. He kept telling himself that it was for the best. Bulma needed space, he felt it when she touched him.. when she hugged him... oh, he felt it when she kissed him. Yes... it was for the best. But his heart was broken, laying in shards on the floor of his soul. But he clung to the thought that it was for the best.. it was what Bulma needed, and his heart was a paltry price to pay for the well being of the woman who stole his heart.  
  
But... was it really worth it?  
  
...Was it?  
  
***  
  
Vegeta snarled slightly at the flare of emotions he could almost feel. Wretched humans. He'd never get the scent of their insignificant sadness off of him, not for days at least.  
  
Stupid humans and their weak emotions.  
  
Vegeta stole back into the kitchen as Bulma walked back, her face a rather unbecoming shade of red. The prince sneered. "So, woman, are you going to make me my food, or will you be sparing me your horrid cooking tonight?"  
  
For a moment, Bulma looked at him with such intense loss in her eyes that he almost lost his sneer. The only time he had ever seen anything resembling that loss is when his planet was destroyed.  
  
Bah, a lover couldnt be THAT important.  
  
"Woman, you're starting to annoy me."  
  
Bulma blinked ponderously at Vegeta... then turned, and walked up the stairs. Soon afterwards, the heavy thunk of a lock sliding into place was heard.  
  
And that left Vegeta to fend for himself in the kitchen.  
  



	3. A Chance Encounter

~~~One Week Later, At Bulma's House~~~  
  
"Old man, I want that machine fixed now! No... not now.. YESTERDAY!"  
  
Bulma walked down the steps of the front porch, where Vegeta, as usual, was making a royal pain in the rear out of himself. His hair was starting to stand back up again, but more than a quarter of it was still falling down into rippling, silky black waves that reached his waist. He was shirtless, sweating, although Bulma was sure it wasnt just the afternoon sun. The minor cuts and bruises he had managed to gather attested to that.  
  
"...I dont have the parts, son. You'll have to wait til the next shipment, there's nothing I can do," Bulma's father was in the middle of saying. But the Saiyjin prince would have none of it.  
  
"Then, old man," his voice had taken on a dangerous quality. She recognized the silky softness that was the calm before Vegeta's storm,"I suggest you GET those parts."  
  
"Vegeta, would you just get off of your high horse? He said we cant get the parts. And we cant!" Bulma thrust her chin out in an unconscious act of stubbornness. Her hands were balled up on her hips, and she was positively emitting attitude.  
  
That caught his attention. With a sinister smile, he turned away from Briefs(who took that moment to run inside to...'answer the phone. (Yeah, thats it.) and advanced on Bulma, like a predator to prey. When he was toe to toe to the woman, he stared malevolently down at her. Bulma had to use all of her will not to flinch away from his sudden proximity, or the heat his body was putting off in the balmy afternoon. She absently noted that a few wisps of hair had fallen over his shoulders, now brushing his crossed arms.  
  
Vegeta smirked. He had been waiting for another confrontation. The woman had been annoying him entirely too much lately, and he had the most perfect barb for getting beneath her skin. He was about to speak, when her shrill, ear-piercing voice piped up,"Well, are you going to say something, or just stand there and try to impress me?"  
  
He rolled his right shoulder lazily, with the grace of a hunting cat. "Whats with the sudden attitude, woman? Is it because you're rutting and you dont have the weak excuse for a boyfriend to whore yourself to? I was wondering when he'd realize that even he could do better than you."  
  
Bulma's mouth dropped open. Her jaws worked, but no sound emerged. Her face began turning a very distinctive shade of angry red, and the prince smirked again. "Thought so." With that, he turned and walked arrogently into the house. She could faintly hear him hollering at her mother to fix his lunch.  
  
She was furious. Why'd she let him get to her? She didnt know. What she needed right now was a long, long walk. Along. Without that prick berating her. Bulma turned and stormed into the house after him. Grabbing her bag and her keys, she stomped outside to her car. No, not a walk. The mall. Yes. The mall. Maybe shopping would take her mind off of her life for a while.  
  
***  
  
Armed with her credit card, Bulma Briefs was not a force to be taken lightly. She had no less than five shopping bags, all from different stores, all packed to bulging with various clothing, junk food, and book material. She was having trouble lugging it all around, much less paying attention to where she was going.  
  
Thats why she bumped into.. him.  
  
"Uhm.. Hi Bulma... its been a while." His smile was shaky.  
  
Bulma, meanwhile, was busy recovering from that moment when her heart tried to punch through her chest. "Its.. only been a week.."  
  
Yamcha bent to help her pick up her things, shouldering the weight himself. When Bulma started to proest, he shrugged it off. "I figure there's something bothering you. This is where you usually end up after.. after you fight with people." He didnt say that 'people' usually meant he, himself.  
  
Bulma sighed. "Its been rough lately."  
  
"Well, can I treat you to a drink? Sounds like you need to talk." Yamcha started leading her to the food courts as she protested.  
  
"Its not that bad... just Vegeta. He's been grinding my nerves a lot lately." They both got their sodas from a vender and sat at a vacant table. "I mean, all he did was.. make a comment to me.. I shouldnt have gotten made, really. It was nothing. Nothing at all. Why are you here anyway?"  
  
Yamcha scratched his head at the fast change of subject, then smiled ruefully. "Gohan's birthday is in two days."  
  
"Oh no... why do I never remember these things? Why me?" Bulma moaned, "I dont know what to get a little boy.."  
  
Yamcha grinned. "Why dont I help you? We'll just take these things to your car, then we'll hit the stores. How's that sound?" He tried to conceal the fact that he desperately wanted to just be with her. He held his breath.  
  
Bulma smiled. "Alright.. That sounds great!" Yamcha sent a small prayer of thanks to whatever benevolent diety that was watching over him.  
  
"Thats awesome! Lets get these to your car.." After they had gone and secured Bulma's purchases in her trunk, they were back at the shops. Yamcha walked at the appropriete distance that a friend should, but he longed to just put his arms around her and hold her close. But at least he was with her. At least there was that much.  
  
He thanked his lucky stars he had that much.  
  
  
*******************  
  
Flames? Comments? Praises? Is it a lost cause? Should I continue? Any good ideas for the next parts?  
  
Whispers  
^Anything is possible when nothing is real^  
  
  



End file.
